Warcraft: the Pilgrim's Road
by wickedmetalviking1990
Summary: A tunnel beneath the Scarlet Monastery uncovers dark secrets concerning the Crusade, the founding of the Church of the Light, and a new threat looming in the long forgotten realm of Northeron. Set shortly before MoP, rated T, featuring mostly OCs.
1. Beneath the Monastery

**(AN: Welcome again to another story of the _Warcraft_ saga. I had originally planned on telling the backstory of some of the characters featured here in _The Beginning of the End_ and _The Frozen North_, but the former of which came to a halt. So, while I attempt to come up with a story for that, we feature a more modern story from the world of Azeroth.)  
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**(This story is original, featuring characters from Blizzard's _World of Warcraft_ which I do not own. The idea is by my younger brother, with some expansion by me, and the characters are ours, created in _World of Warcraft_ and brought to life on the pages you are about to read. Enjoy, dear adventurer!)  
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* * *

**Beneath the Monastery**

The battle was won. A joint task-force of Alliance and Horde warriors had united to face the growing threat of the Scarlet Crusade. Though, in recent years, with its destruction in the Eastern Plaguelands, the Crusade ever was a thorn in the side of both the Horde and the Alliance, due to its misguided leaders believing all things not under the crimson banner were of the undead. Since the Scarlet Monastery was within a stone's throw from the Argent Crusade stronghold of Hearthglen, Highlord Fordring had requested that King Wrynn and Warchief Hellscream send recruits to end the Scarlet threat.

Due to the tensions between both sides, neither Varian nor Garrosh committed to sending an army to the Tirisfal Glades, but had posted recruitment papers in every capital city, calling for the overthrow of the Scarlet Crusade. In the end, a small band of seasoned warriors had answered the call and, after a fierce struggle at the gates of the monastery, High Inquisitor Whitemane was now a prisoner of the Argent Crusade and the monastery lay empty.

In the Athenaeum of the old library, the warriors of the Alliance gathered. Beyond, the Horde warriors were busy looting the bodies of the fallen for useful items. At a table, Lesh'ara, a Draenei paladin, was sitting at one of the wooden tables, resting from the battle. At her side, sharpening her war-hammer with a grinding stone, was Marion Sledgeheart, a Dwarf and fellow wielder of the Light. Nearby, on the floor, Abner Varlaine, a huntsman formerly of the Scarlet Crusade, was running his gloved hands over his pet elven lynx. Meanwhile, Melissa Redmane, a priestess and one of the last survivors of Lordaeron, was scanning the bookshelves for any secrets the crusade might have hoarded over the years.

"How are you, Abby?" Varlaine said to the lynx, who purred contentedly beneath her master's touch. "Did you have fun today?" The large cat nodded her head, but Varlaine did not smile in reply. He was grim at this turn of events.

"What's eatin' ye, laddie?" Sledgeheart asked, noticing Varlaine's grim countenance.

"This is a hard time for him, my friend," Lesh'ara stated. "He was once of the Scarlet Crusade."

But Varlaine did not respond. He was too deep in thought. Already in his mind he recalled the faces of those who had fallen at his blade during the assault. They were his friends, his comrades, ones he had made promises to return to once his mission in the frozen north had come to an end. Now his promises to them were broken, as broken as their bodies upon the floor of the Scarlet Monastery.

While they were thus in silence, two sets of footsteps were heard upon the tiled floor of the Athenaeum. One set was soft and barely audible over the heavy clamp-stamp of the other. Varlaine turned and saw a blood elf in armor, wearing the blood-stained tabard of the Scarlet Crusade. Behind him was a mighty tauren in the garb of the shaman of his people.

"Excuse me," the elf said. "The Alliance commander said there were paladins in this group."

"Yes, there are," Sledgeheart replied. Lesh'ara and Redmane turned to the newcomer.

"Well, if you're not too busy," the blood elf replied with a hint of condescension. "We would like you to the Crusader's Chapel. There is something...interesting there."

One by one, they stood up and followed the blood elf and tauren out of the Athenaeum and down the halls of the monastery. Already, as they walked, several groups of Alliance and Horde soldiers were moving the bodies of the dead from the floors of the monastery. Even the Horde, which many in the Alliance considered barbarians who defiled the bodies of the slain, knew that to keep dead bodies lying about was a sure way to spread disease.

At last, they arrived at the chapel, where the final battle with High Inquisitor Whitemane had taken place. The chapel was now empty of all the bodies of the slain, but an air of foreboding still held over this ominously solemn place. They walked into the reliquary at the back of the chapel, the place where Whitemane had been meditating prior to the battle.

"Do you feel that?" the tauren queried. "The spirits of this place are restless."

"Yes, Tam," the blood elf replied. "But what I feel are not the spirits, but the Light. It is very restless, do you not hear it?"

"Aye," Sledgeheart stated. "That I do."

"I feel it as well," Lesh'ara said at last. "It is like a scream of great pain, like how our shaman said Draenor felt when the black magic of the orcs tore our world apart."

"This land groans in pain constantly," Tam replied. "It could be nothing more than the spirits of this dying glade, or a rumor of the recent Cataclysm."

"No," Sledgeheart shook her head. "This feels closer, but..."

"Go on," Redmane urged.

"But deeper," the Dwarf replied. "The earth beneath our feet trembles in silent agony. Whatever this is, it's happenin' under the ground."

"What could it be?" the elf asked.

"I know not," Lesh'ara replied. "But the scream of the Light is almost unbearable. We should not let this go unnoticed."

"I agree," Sledgeheart stated. "We should send a message to the Argent Crusade, Highlord Fordring should know of this."

"In the meantime," the blood elf replied. "The rest of my group will make our leave. We've done our duty, and now we must go."

The blood elf left the room, while the tauren turned to the others and said to them, in Common: "Ancestors watch over you." Then he too turned about and left the reliquary. The others, meanwhile, gazed in awe at the surroundings of the circular, domed reliquary of the Scarlet Chapel. There were no signs that this was anything out of the ordinary, and yet even Varlaine, who could not feel the presence of the Light as strongly as the paladins and the priestess, could sense that something in this room was not right.

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**(AN: It's a good beginning as any, a bit over a thousand words, so that's definitely a good thing.)**

**(Will try to get a new chapter posted as soon as possible, while my brother and I sort out the details of his rough draft of this story. In the meanwhile, what did you think? Any suggestions for the next chapters? Would you like any particular character to receive a bit more explanation or such? One thing we'll see in this story, aside from some character development, is some back-story of the Scarlet Crusade, from two characters in particular. Don't forget to review!)  
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	2. The Day it Ended

**(AN: A good thing about having multiple stories in the works at the same time is that you get to work on which ever ones you want whenever you're not feeling up to doing one in particular. So, here we go with another chapter of this story.)  
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**The Day It Ended**

The Scarlet Monastery was empty and deserted. Any who had not been slain were now prisoners of the Horde, sent off to Undercity and never heard of again. Currently, however, two delegates from the Horde and the Alliance were pitching tents outside of the grounds of the monastery. As both sides had partaken in its overthrow, both parties had an equal 'stake' in the land: but their leaders didn't think the same way, and so they sent their delegates to insure that one side or the other got complete control of the Scarlet Monastery, the last bit of untainted land in Tirisfal Glades.

In the camp of the Alliance, Marion Sledgeheart and Melissa Redmane sat outside of their tent. The paladin was restlessly drawing in the dirt with her gloved finger while the human was pouring over a tome of the Scarlet Crusade, that seemed to be a journal of some sort.

"What do ye think of this?" the dwarf asked her human companion.

"I think they're going about this all wrong," Melissa replied. "I mean, I grew up in the foothills of Hillsbrad, Lordaeron is my home. I was heart-broken when I learned that Lordaeron had fallen, but even more so when I came back here and saw what the Forsaken have done to this land."

"How do ye think this should be done?" asked the dwarf.

"I think Highlord Fordring should annex the monastery into part of Hearthglen," Redmane said. "The Alliance _should_ be encouraging their people to retake Lordaeron."

"But what about the balance o'power?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the Horde and the Alliance haven't been on the best of terms with each other," Sledgeheart began. "Not since the Wrathgate incident." The two lowered their heads in silent respect. The Wrathgate had been a horrifying incident of treachery. The Alliance and the Horde joined together to enter the Lich King's stronghold of Icecrown through the swiftest route, but were ambushed by the Forsaken, who unleashed a deadly plague upon both armies, killing the Scourge, the Alliance and the Horde. While Sylvanas Windrunner denied having any knowledge, claiming that Grand Apothecary Putress acted alone, none in the Alliance believed her. Their disbelief was broadened during the recent assault on Gilneas, where plague-growing facilities commissioned by Sylvanas had been discovered deep in the heart of Forsaken territory.

"Still," Sledgeheart said after their moment of silence for all those who died. "Ever since the Dragon returned, there's been fighting all across Azeroth. Both sides seem determined to contain the other, to keep us from getting too much territory. Ach, but if you ask me, I'd say the Horde has been doing all of the aggression lately. I don't think the Dark Lady or Warlord Garrosh would allow us to take back the monastery." She spat on the ground at the mention of Garrosh Hellscream.

During the recent Cataclysm, the Return of the Dragon Aspect Deathwing, Thrall had stepped down as Warchief of the Horde in order to battle the cataclysm. In his place, he had appointed Garrosh Hellscream, son of Grom Hellscream, to act as warchief of the Horde. While many on both the Horde and the Alliance considered Thrall weak, Garrosh was considered by those on both sides as a war-monger. Many of the recent aggressive actions on the side of the Horde had been orchestrated either by Sylvanas, as was the case of the assault on Gilneas, or directly by Garrosh.

"I know," Melissa replied. "Many in the Alliance don't see the need to re-take Lordaeron."

"Maybe this will give them an incentive," Sledgeheart suggested.

While they sat there, they happened to see, just on the edge of the wooden palisade-wall that separated both camps, the Elf who had spoken to them during the looting of the monastery. As he walked, his eyes were closed and he seemed to be singing. Though none of them spoke Thalassian, the words they heard bespoke of great sorrow and loss, of regret and of anger.

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"We have always served the Light, my son." said Tindel Darkbreaker to his son, Setheras. They walked under the golden trees of Quel'Thalas, in the cool of the winter. Though it had the south-lands in its grasp, here in the North, in the undying land of the Elves, it was merely a chill, a whisper of cold weather blowing in from the south.

"For, with the darkness," Tindel continued. "There must always be the light of dawn. There must always be a balance and contrast: good and evil, night and day, right and wrong. In times of peace..." He sighed for a moment, remembering all too well the horrors of the Second War, when these beautiful, golden trees were cut down and burned by the Amani trolls, allies of the brutal Horde. "War will always return," he admitted. "It is a necessary evil, just as death is a necessary evil, for death needs life to exist." He turned to his son, the raven-haired Setheras Darkbreaker, whose fair face was grim and sullen by these tidings.

"Do you find these words troubling, my son?" Tindel asked. His question was met by a sheepish nod from his son. "Never be ashamed of not fully grasping the concepts of life: a man who claims to know all things truly has no true knowledge." They both smiled and the younger elf laughed.

"It has been but a year since you came of age, my son," Tindel continued. "Yet I see in you the likes of a leader rivaling Anasterian and prince Kael'thas. Do not deny it, son: in you I see the greatest leader our people have bred in a millennium."

"But how, father?" Setheras asked. "I am just one, small and insignificant. How could I ever..."

"Doubt and fear shall be your greatest enemies in the days to come, my son," Tindel replied. "You must never think or say that you are useless."

"But father..."

"Never!" Tindel sharply stated. His countenance then relaxed. "Come, let us enjoy this time of peace."

For soon, both of them knew, it would be over. Tindel Darkbreaker belonged to an elite fighting force of Thalassian warriors of the Light: the Sunwarders. Many years had the Darkbreaker family belonged to the Sunwarders, and each year, upon their coming of age, the mantle of Sunwarder captain would be passed down to the next son and heir of the family. For the Darkbreaker family, the time had come to pass the title down to the last living son: Setheras.

But for now, that time had not yet come, and father and son strode through the golden streets of Silvermoon, ere Setheras went off to begin his training as a warrior of the Holy Light. From the south a gentle breeze was blowing at their backs, lifting up the fallen leaves of the winter and sending them into a fitful fury, dancing upon the gusts of wind. The pure light of the noon-day sun was glowing hot through the golden boughs of the trees. It was a serene paradise, one that even the lesser races of the Alliance, such as the gnomes, humans and dwarves, would find beautiful.

But the serenity did not pass. From far away, there appeared a haggard-looking elf, panting and out of breath. He frantically ran up to Tindel Darkbreaker and knelt at his feet, almost collapsing due to exhaustion.

"You will state your business at once!" Tindel commanded.

"Your pardon, my lord Tindel," sighed the messenger, ears drooping. "The traitor prince...his army...the walking dead, my lord paladin! They have breached the Moongates! The Ranger General requests the Sunwarders rally to her aid at once. You are to assemble at Tranquilien as soon as possible. _Anar alah belore_, my lord."

By now, several busy-bodies and passersby were gathered about, listening to what the messenger had said. Rumors from the south had slowly made their way to Quel'Thalas, though each one was even more outlandish than the other. None of them actually believed that war would come to the high home of the elves, nor were they prepared for that war to come at their very doorstep.

"You, runner!" Tindel said to the young elf. "Once you've rested, go at once to Anasterian and inform him of the General's predicament. Summon my lieutenant, Captain Tanalel, if you see him. Have him bring my steed and my armor."

"Yes, my lord!" the elf bowed, then ran towards the Sun Gate. Behind him walked Tindel and Setheras.

"_Ann'da_," Setheras said. "Let me ride out with you. By your side, we shall win glorious victories and..."

"No, my son," Tindel dismissed. "Not even eighty years old, and fresh out of your basic training, you would seek to fight the living dead? I will not hear of it."

"But-But father..."

But at that moment, Captain Tanalel Wolfrunner, an impressive elf with reddish-brown hair and heavy armor, riding a horned Thalassian steed, galloped to the side of the two Darkbreakers.

"You sent for me, captain?" Tanalel asked.

"Ah, my old friend!" Tindel greeted his lieutenant fondly. "None of our order were ever so ready to defend our ancient home as you!"

"I stand at a moment's notice to give my life for Silvermoon, as always," Tanalel replied. He turned his head and whistled. Tindel's charger, a white mare clad in blue and silver mail, galloped over to the side of mounted Tanalel.

"Your orders, master Tindel?" Tanalel repeated.

"We're off to summon the others," Tindel replied, mounting his steed and placing his helmet upon his head. "If Prince Arthas wishes to ravage our lands, we can mete upon him the same fate he gave to Lordaeron."

"Master!" Setheras interjected, drawing his sword. "Let me go with you!"

"I will _not_ allow it!" Tindel spoke harshly. He sighed, then continued. "Understand, my son, that we all have our time in this world. Have patience, yours will come when you least expect it."

Tindel kicked his charger in the flanks and took off into the forest, Tanalel at his side. Moments later, a horn was blown and all those outside the gates of Silvermoon were called to come inside before the undead appeared. Reluctantly, Setheras joined the others behind the gate. But, being a Sunwarder, he knew that he was given permission to walk the walls and aid in the defense, if need be. So, with sword drawn, he passed through the Sun Gate and climbed up to the top of the walls.

From afar, the raucous clamor of the oncoming scourge could not be missed: the very earth shook as death made its march through the Thalassian woodlands. Setheras' eyes welled up with tears: he should be at his father's side, earning renown next to the one who had fought and survived against the Amani Empire during the Second War. Yet here he was, obeying his father's last command and waiting from the walls of the city. Hours passed and no one returned, neither in victory nor in rout. Perhaps the rumors of the ferocity of the fallen prince were true. But he did not entertain that thought, not for long. The Silver Hand were humans, weak and feeble: the Sunwarders were invincible, and they had the Ranger General on their side. Even if they were overwhelmed, they must have regrouped at Elrendar or another village to continue striking the undead from their flanks: they just _must_ have.

Still they had not returned, and an even worse sight was now appearing through the trees away to the south.

* * *

"Hey you!" Sledgeheart shouted. "Yeah, you! Are ye lost? Yer camp is that way!" She gestured towards the other side of the palisade.

"You're a paladin," Setheras Darkbreaker said to the dwarf.

"And ye're on the wrong side of the lines, elf," Sledgeheart replied.

"You remember me," he said. "I noticed the anomaly in the monastery. Do you not feel it? Something is not right here."

"Aye, and what if I do?" the dwarf asked.

"Wait!" Melissa Redmane suddenly spoke, joining them. "Master elf, I know that we're on opposite sides, but I need your help."

"And why should I help you, _human_?" he asked, uttering the last word with great disdain.

"Because I felt it as well," she said. "Something's happening below the Scarlet Monastery, and we need answers. You're one, and I know where we can find the other one."

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**(AN: New chapter, yay! Hopefully, after pumping out three or more, I can get back to the other stories, since this one seems to be ignored. Come on, review! I can't be the only one with a definite interest.)**

**(As you can see, this story has heavy influence from my brother. That whole flash-back sequence was written by him, but adjusted by me. He is also an Alliance player [in WoW] and hates the Horde with a passion. He also, like me with Count Dooku in _Star Wars_, thinks the Scarlet Crusade was good [even though they think EVERYONE, even their own comrades in the Alliance, are undead]. But we'll be getting to that soon enough. The WoW stories that I'm planning, _The Beginning of the End_, _Wrath of Icecrown_, _Journe_y _of a Thousand Steps_, _Into the Unknown_ and _The Frozen Throne_, are all based on Warcraft/WoW and its expansions. _The Beginning of the End_ tells about Melissa and her husband Tharbin, _Wrath of Icecrown_ about another Wolfrunner, _Journey_ about my main character, Taur Earthwalker, _Into the Unknown_ about Sledgeheart and Lesh'ara, _The Frozen Throne_ about other characters [who aren't introduced here]. This one, based in late Cataclysm, will tell the back-story of Abner Varlaine and Setheras Darkbreaker.)  
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**(As they are the two main characters, as it were, we need to focus on their development as well as the main development, the secrets beneath the Scarlet Monastery. So don't be afraid to review and critique our writing skills. Your critiques mean better quality stories.)  
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